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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28502355">Professional Courtesy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirtalen/pseuds/sirtalen'>sirtalen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hitman (Video Games), John Wick (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:08:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28502355</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirtalen/pseuds/sirtalen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just two professionals discussing a personnel issue...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Professional Courtesy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">At this point, John would have been the first to admit that "personal survival" had been low on his list of priorities lately. Nevertheless, he had enough fear left in him to let out a quiet "Oh, <span class="da-editor-italic"><em>shit</em>," </span>when he looked into the bar's mirror, and saw the reflection of the bald man in a dark, bespoke Italian suit, wearing a red tie, staring back at him.</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">The man nodded once to John, walking up to take an adjacent stool, and flagged down the barkeep to order a scotch on the rocks.</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">"Relax, Mr. Wick," the bald man said, after the bartender set down his drink. "If the ICA had a contract for you, you would never have seen me coming."</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">"Thank you, 47" John said, taking a deliberate sip of his beer. "To what do I owe the courtesy?"</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">"Diana and I wished to express our condolences over your recent loss," Agent 47 said. After a short pause, he added, "Both of them."</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">John eyed 47 carefully. As little emotion as the bald hitman ever showed, he seemed sincere. "Thanks. Though I can't imagine you caring much about someone's dog," John said.</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">"I  can understand why you were distraught. I had a pet bird once, for a brief time," 47 admitted. "I enjoyed its company."</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">John blinked at this revelation. "What happened to it?" he asked.</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">47 took a sip of his drink. "It became rather noisy during a critical situation, so I snapped its neck," he said, his voice perfectly level.</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">"Figures," John said. "I can't imagine you hunted me down just to talk to me about the dead."</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">"The dead... Well, the soon to be dead, are my primary concern," 47 said, a microscopic level of humor entering his voice. "But no, that isn't why I'm here."</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">John turned towards 47. "Is the ICA sending me some kind of warning?" he asked.</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">The bald man seemed to consider this carefully. "Say, a politely worded request," he finally told John. "Your vendetta against Tarasov's organization was righteous," 47 said. "And the ICA is disinterested in the internal politics of the High Table."</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">"But…?" John prompted.</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">47 finally turned to meet John's eyes, grey against blue. "Your methods are rather… <span class="da-editor-italic"><em>loud</em>," </span>he noted. "Cleanup after your actions is getting expensive, and someone may eventually ask the ICA to step in and do some cost… <em>cutting</em>." Another sip of his drink. "This would place the Board in the rather uncomfortable position of attempting to eliminate a professional colleague who has done no wrong to the ICA, and inflicted considerable pain on its rivals.</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">"I'm not a subtle person," John noted.</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">"We all have our preferred methods," 47 agreed. "My own when performing an assignment, that no one realizes there was an assignment at all." He stood up, bowing to John slightly. "Nevertheless, from one professional to another, the ICA requests you not force them to choose sides."</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">"I can't guarantee that," John said. He also stood up. "And if the ICA does choose a side?"</p>

<p></p><div class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">
  <p> </p>
</div><p class="public-DraftStyleDefault-block-depth0 public-DraftStyleDefault-text-ltr">For the first time since coming into the bar, Agent 47 smiled. "Well, as I said. You will never see me coming.</p>
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